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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26740435">Awful (They know how to break all the girls like you)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasseomancy/pseuds/Tasseomancy'>Tasseomancy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Nobody's Daughter [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Angel: The Series (Comics), Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comics 1998), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Buffy gets an indentical twin sister because I could not be stopped from overthinking metaphysics, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recreational Drug Use, Summers twins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:47:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,312</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26740435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasseomancy/pseuds/Tasseomancy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The world grew unbearably quiet without the sounds of death filling it anymore. Everything started to come online again, or go offline, or fritzed out or just-- whatever meant it was going from “action hero mode” to “full metal freakout”.</i><br/> <br/><i>She turned and locked eyes with an equally startled and confused Buffy. Together they watched each other as everything fell into place, the dots connecting mutually between them in real time.</i> </p><p>------</p><p>Prologue/prototype to get the ball rolling ficwise on a story idea that’s been slowly consuming my life since I mainlined btvs during 2019’s Inktober.</p><p>The concept: “okay but how would <i>identical twins</i> work with the whole Slayer thing?” which then turned into “okay but what if <i>Buffy</i> had a twin sister?” and my selfmade hell began there. I started on this mess before I knew about the Fray comics, which are arguable on how canon they are to start and frankly a totally different scenario anyway so we ignore them in this house. </p><p>Consider this the Buffy Movie of this series for timeline purposes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Buffy &amp; Brooke Summers (OC), OC/OC, OFC/OFC, OFC/OMC, Oliver Pike/Buffy Summers, Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Nobody's Daughter [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946371</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Awful (They know how to break all the girls like you)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>As I mention briefly in the summary this is a prologue/pilot type thing for what’s been an ever expanding and morphing idea that just started as a “how would that work?” thought experiment while I was hunkered down doing like a million ink washes and binging all of btvs a year ago and has become a basically full series retelling of the whole damn show plus an ass load of new characters and shit. I had to accept after like 10 OCs, 1 loose outline rattling around my head and 2 <i>massive</i> Pinterest boards that this bastard was not gonna leave so I might as well just go for it and write the damn thing like I’d originally considered and screw all negative thinking on my end.</p><p>If we were looking at this fic on the timeline of the franchise and what its equivalent would be it's the movie/origin comic along with some other stories that all take place between the rough time of the movie and the start of the show.</p><p>Along with the TV series, movie and my own cursed mind this fic takes ideas/themes/etc from or references comic stories like <i>Viva las Buffy!, Dawn &amp; the Hoopy Bear, Slayer, Interrupted , A Stake to the Heart</i> and <i>Spike: Asylum</i>, along with at least 1 minor nod to the books.</p><p>This fic and this series are currently without beta so please keep that in consideration when I inevitably go off the rails. Really tho, any feedback or interest will completely make my day. Seriously, I feel like like the always sunny conspiracy guy meme talking to myself about this thing as I work it all out lol</p><p>Also as an FYI, this story will be taking a backseat to my other current BTVS fic <i><span class="u">Love Lost</span></i> until that one's done/has more chapters in backlog/is almost done and will basically get updated sporadically until then.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A pretty girl who looked around her age, maybe a little bit older but definitely in high school, stood in front of her. They stood somewhere she didn’t recognize but sent her stomach plummeting to the center of the earth with dread and unease. She wasn’t clear on how she’d gotten here, how or why this was happening, just that this was what was happening <em>now</em> so she better pay attention. There was something else in the— cave?— with them, she couldn’t see them clearly, just the shadows moving around behind the girl. It made the dread claw right back up into her throat.</p><p>She’d never seen her before but she <em>knew</em> she was real, someone who actually existed not just someone build out of random features from her subconscious. Her expression was blank but her eyes were haunting, boring into her. She might have turned away, looked somewhere else, left to get out from that stare if she wasn’t forcibly welded to the spot.</p><p>She had never wanted to be somewhere <em>less</em> in her entire life, everything about this place felt ominous. Final. Like someone, at<em> least</em> one someone, had died here, just now. Just before she got here.</p><p>It was the girl. She knew it was her. There was no way she could know that but she also couldn’t shake the utter certainty that gripped her. This girl was dead. She didn’t look dead but she was. Wherever they were right now, it was her grave. She didn’t know how to feel about that. It meant something but she couldn’t parse out what that could be, or what she was feeling past <em>intensity</em>.</p><p>As she became more aware of the dream world around her — <em>this was a dream, had to be, the only thing that made sense</em>— she felt someone by her side and even though she couldn’t look over for whatever dream reason there was she knew who it was. Buffy. Her twin.</p><p> </p><p>Brooke wasn’t quite sure if that was comforting or deeply worrying given the circumstances.</p><p> </p><p>The dead girl held out her hands, in each was a hand carved wooden stake. For being rustic hunks of junk they felt powerful, somber— like they were being handed the crown to a kingdom and missile launch codes all at the same time— and against her better sense Brooke saw her dream arm and Buffy’s reach up to take them.</p><p> </p><p>They took them.</p><p> </p><p>The girl only said the one thing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Tag, you’re it.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The sisters turned to each other at the same time equally startled and confused—</p><p> </p><p>And the dream ended as abruptly as it began, the sound of a small dog’s bark morphing into a squawking alarm.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>                                                                                                    </p><p> </p><p>Buffy and her didn’t talk about the dream over breakfast, or for ages after until it all kinda became pretty moot. They both just got ready per usual— dressed, fought over the bathroom, bickered, bossed Dawn around, ate and fought over who got shotgun on the ride to school. It was all pretty normal stuff. No other ominous signs or messages, no cryptic ghosts, no stakes mystically manifesting in their backpacks. Buffy flounced off to her friends and Brooke made a b-line to hers and that was pretty much that.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Well—</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Despite having dismissed the dream completely and throwing it on the pile with all the other stuff she was aiming to ignore into nonexistence the feeling of solemn dread, of something coming or happening or— <em>whatever</em> — just would not leave. She would completely forget and in a lull it would come back to the fore again, like being hit by a cold breeze when a door opens. It put her on edge but there just wasn’t anything to link it to, it was like a warning when there was nothing to get warned about.</p><p>She went to soccer practice feeling out of it and basically wrote the session off from the start as bound to be a <em>bleh</em> one. But that didn’t end up being the case. It wasn’t bleh or good or stellar, if anything it was— unsettling?</p><p>Sure, she might have been varsity in her freshman year and Miss. <em>All-that-and-a-bag-of-chips</em> Forward but <em>nothing</em> could explain how she suddenly had the stamina to end practice not even winded, her speed turning sonic, or her legs had apparently becoming cannons— other than someone slipping her mega steroids or <em>something</em> super not normal happening to her. Something wasn’t right with her body, even after a full practice session she was still itchy with unspent energy, skin practically crawling with it. She’d barely broken a sweat when she knew normally she’d be drenched and gasping by now, proud of putting down another round of serious effort on the field.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t right.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>She wasn’t right.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She had always felt comfortable in her own skin, with her body— a childhood of sports, gymnastics and dancing had her used to pretty much all the weird stuff a body could do. But right now it felt like she was living inside a stranger, like someone had changed something in her house and she couldn’t tell <em>what</em> yet but she just knew it was <em>wrong</em> and it made her queasy to the max not knowing.</p><p>She shut her gym locker at the end of practice still lost in her thoughts, the harsh foreign sound it made as it closed snapped her back. She stared at it. The door was dented, bent a bit with the lowest point being where her hand had been but she couldn’t have…? Could she? She’d kinda slammed it sure but not <em>that</em> hard, she couldn’t even slam <em>anything</em> that hard!</p><p> </p><p>Could she?</p><p> </p><p>Her own brooding and mild attempts to try and avoid any suspicious questions about why she was suddenly freakily different today (someone had to have noticed how could they not have noticed?!) meant the girls locker room was kind of empty now— at least near her — something she was desperately grateful for now. No one could know she did that, it couldn’t have been her. It’d already been like that right?</p><p> </p><p>Something wasn’t right.</p><p> </p><p>She rushed out to wait on the steps with Buffy for Mom to pick them up.</p><p> </p><p>But Buffy wasn’t there.</p><p> </p><p>                                                                                                   </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Brooke tried to ignore it, tried to ignore <em>everything </em>so that she wouldn’t think about anything and just act normal but the reality of it was it just wasn’t possible.</p><p>Her dreams were all vivid nightmares about monsters— huge hulking demons, talking corpses, scaled things, gruesome packs of ravenous sadists — and death, and just— horror movie stuff. So much high octane nightmare fuel on a nightly bases she could barely sleep and frankly didn’t want to. On top of that, she couldn’t sort out her body, how to be like, <em>not</em> super strong and <em>play normally</em>. She kept misjudging things, muscle memory kicking in and telling her to kick like always but the resulting passes were leaving girls benched with massive bruising or worse.</p><p>So she had to come up with excuses to miss practice and games or stay benched. The team was definitely noticing something was wrong now, she’d gone from gung ho girl to Miss Flake basically overnight. It seemed like most of them where assuming it was because Parent Stuff (they’d been fighting more and more) and whatever was going on with Buffy (also probably parent related), if her coach’s gentle probing was anything to go by, but she was <em>sure</em> there were girls whispering about her being a freak or taking steroids. She saw how some of the girls she practically maimed looked at her. She thought it might be fear.</p><p>She couldn’t fake it anymore. <em>She couldn’t fake it from the start</em>. She’d just been fooling herself into thinking she could. Still she tried to be normal, tried to not look at it all too hard, ignore it until it just sorted itself out. She went out with friends more, well— <em>kinda</em> friends— she couldn’t hang out with her real ones since they were all on the team and she was avoiding anyone who might figure out she wasn’t normal. But there were always kids looking to hang out at the mall and she was nothing if not a social gal.</p><p> </p><p>It was easy, refreshing. They didn’t know, there was nothing that could tip them off. No way for her to mess this up with an Olympic level sprint or causing a bruised bone.</p><p> </p><p>Three weeks after the weirdness began she killed her first vampire.</p><p> </p><p>Not that she even knew that’s what he was.</p><p> </p><p>On the walk from the mall to the movie theater to meet up with her new friends she got such a case of the chills but like, weird not-chilly chills. Like what she’d imagine spidey-sense being like maybe, because it wasn’t just <em>“ooo slight breeze now my spine’s doing a weird nerve thing”</em> it was like, <em>directional, </em>pulling her somewhere. Like the world’s creepiest and vaguest compass.</p><p> </p><p>Naturally like the dumb blonde she was she followed it <em>right</em> into an dingy alleyway.</p><p> </p><p>Classic. <em>Freddie, Jason? Step on up!</em></p><p> </p><p>But what she met when she got there was some guy. Totally normal looking— basic t-shirt, boring hoodie, jeans that proved he didn’t know how sizing worked, lame sneakers— just a <em>guy</em>.</p><p> </p><p>So what the<em> heck</em> was that chills thing about? Her mystical <em>mediocre guys in gross alleyways</em> sense?</p><p> </p><p><em>Ugh</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She smiled tightly, feeling like a totally awkward loon. <em>What was she thinking?</em> It was just a weird feeling it didn’t <em>have</em> mean anything, clearly it didn’t! Just because other stuff was… <em>strange</em> didn’t mean she had to follow every impulse she had just to see if jumping off a cliff did something <em>new</em> now. This was so, so stupid, she was probably going to be late for the movie now thanks to this and have to come up with an excuse.</p><p>“Sorry I must’ve— Um, I’m just gonna—“ She started to turn, though she didn’t know if she really wanted to turn her back on him since well, totally meh or not he <em>was</em> still a strange guy in a creepy alleyway. And maybe it was just stranger danger but she was super <em>not</em> loving the way his expression was shifting.</p><p> </p><p>It seemed like the moment stood still, then suddenly everything was in motion.</p><p> </p><p>He practically <em>leaped</em> at her like some kind of feral animal, his face contorting into <em>something else</em>. Dumbstruck, totally uncomprehending that this was even happening <em>at all</em> Brooke at stood stock still. Total deer in the headlights.</p><p>Until suddenly she wasn’t. Until suddenly she was also moving as well, her body moving on pure reflex like it did on the field. She just let it take over, as if she’d even had the wherewithal to fight it. There was a struggle— <em>an actual for real honest to god fight, like with punching and everything</em>, something she <em>never</em> thought she’d ever be in— and she was doing well. No, she was winning. She was pulling off things she didn’t have a right to know how to do and hearing some very disconcerting crunches along with the utterly inhuman snarling the guy was somehow pulling off.</p><p> </p><p>At the end of it she had <em>ripped off his head</em> and he turned to dust.</p><p> </p><p>What the actual fuck.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t make it to the movie.</p><p> </p><p>It was the first night Brooke snuck a drink from the liquor cabinet. She got home, no one was around— as usual— poured some of her mom’s rum in a glass, then went and filled the rest of the glass with some coke from the fridge in case someone <em>did </em>show up. She ended up sitting there watching tv until it turned to infomercials.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t know what had just happened.</p><p> </p><p>She just knew that one day she’d woken up with super powers or whatever and today she was fairly certain she’d killed a man. Or something close enough to make her feel like she did.</p><p> </p><p>Three weeks after the nightmare had started she quit the team, at least then no one else would get hurt.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>                                                                                                    </p><p> </p><p>With her new plethora of excess time looking like it would be largely directed to driving herself slowly insane and/or sit uncomfortably in her room listening to her parents increasingly frequent fights. Brooke decided to try and <em>do</em> something about it— pick a plan C. But plan C, <em>“hang out and sit uncomfortably in her room listening to their parents increasingly frequent fights with Buffy”,</em> was a no go, her twin was increasingly distant, barely around and mega jumpy. Plan D, <em>“hang out and sit uncomfortably in her room listening to their parents increasingly frequent fights with Dawn”,</em> had it’s own problems. Mainly that while she loved Dawn oodles she was still just a kid and Brooke’s own paranoia about her issues kinda tanked the mood and then Dawn just whined and yelled at her.</p><p>She knew Buffy’s sudden descent into delinquency had to mean something was up with her too. She heard all the rumors and stuff around school about Buffy, saw how she sometimes came home super late looking like a mess— heck, it seemed like increasingly more of the fights were about <em>Buffy</em>. What to do with her now that she was public enemy number 1 by adult standards or whatever.</p><p>Brooke felt for her she totally did, wanted to be there for her, wanted <em>someone</em> she could talk to about all of this creepy stuff happening to her. But Buffy never seemed to want to talk anymore and honestly, Brooke was afraid if she started talking about everything going wrong in their lives now she’d never stop and she’d admit to what she was sure was murder. It kind of tipped the scales away from being a good sister.</p><p> </p><p>So in the end she went for plan E <em>“hang out with friends”</em>, which despite generally being considered sound advice in after school specials naturally ended up being a big mistake.</p><p> </p><p>Her new friends were turning out to be all of the partying type, which of course, meant they all somehow had access to booze and drugs.</p><p> </p><p>The alcohol was honestly a welcome thing, it meant she didn’t have to worry about her parents noticing sudden drops in fullness in their liquor cabinet and thus no confrontations about who was drinking all of it. Which was her. She was. She was drinking it. Trying to forget the nightmares and the man who’s head she’d ripped off. The drugs ended up happening because she <em>couldn’t</em> sleep but still needed to stay awake for school and stuff. Or when she needed something else to use to forget.</p><p>She was torn between waiting answers and wanting to forget. Forgetting tended to win, usually in the form of alcohol and parties around the city. It worked for the most part. She certainly spent more time working to try and stay under her parents’ radar than she did thinking about the bizarre things happening to her.</p><p>But Buffy wasn’t really talking to her much. She was pulling away from the whole family— okay true, they both were— but she still wasn’t really sure <em>why</em> on her sister’s end. Pretty much everyone seemed to think she was <em>“acting out for attention”</em> or whatever but if that was true Brooke would’ve thought it’d be more around the lines of shoplifting or getting pregnant or well, <em>partying</em>. Partying was honestly the kinda thing she’d’ve expected out of Buffy eventually but they’d certainly never crossed paths out in the wild.</p><p>It was hard to imagine the sister she’d seen cry over a stained princess costume and her former co-mayor of Beeetown (population: all their toys) getting into brawls. She didn’t really know how to bring it up, not sure if Buffy would clam up for the long haul if she just point blank asked. And what if Buffy asked<em> her</em> about what she’d been doing and why?</p><p>Regardless of the growing chasm, sometimes Buffy would slip into her room anyway, or vice versa, when they were both actually there, especially when the fighting went deep into the night. She would slip in with Mr. Grodo, their eyes would meet and silently they would huddle up together in her bed like they had when they were little kids and there was a monster or a storm or a bad dream. Clinging to each other as they weathered the storm of their lives crashing down around them on that little pink lifeboat of a bed. Sometimes Buffy would put her head on her shoulder, bury her face in her collarbone and Brooke would hold her while she shook. Sometimes she’d cry. Sometimes they both did.</p><p> </p><p>                                                                                    </p>
<hr/><p>               </p><p> </p><p>The partying stopped working so well when it happened again.</p><p> </p><p>She was cruising through the party, one of the many that popped up in whatever abandoned house someone could sneak into, enjoying the music and moving through the crowd, toying with the idea of picking out someone to dance with. The chills from the alley ran through her again like ice water sobering her and turning her wild eyed.</p><p>The place was packed, there was no way to tell who or where it was coming from but that didn’t stop her from desperately hunting around for the source. If she could find it she could ignore it or stay away or something. Could they sense <em>her</em>? Was that why the first man attacked her? While she was so busy trying to find them so she could keep away would she get blindsided by the exact thing she was looking for?</p><p> </p><p>Now she wished she hadn’t drunk anything at all or bombed that xanny. She was decidedly feeling a need for being very present and in possession of all three of her wits.</p><p> </p><p>Brooke followed the feeling, trying to will an answer out of every face she past as she went. Her brain and her feet only barely talking, just a camera on a dolly track. The stairs up to the second floor are mostly clear, just bottles and general debris but the growing dark at the landing at the top is ominous. The people up there considerably fewer, appearing mainly as shadows shuffling in the dark as they moved up and down the hall. If it was up there avoiding it would likely no longer be an option once she went up. Was she trying to avoid it at this point? Or confront it?</p><p>Mechanically she walked up the stairs, into the darkness, pulled by a chain forward. On the top of the stairs poised between both wings of the hall Brooke paused and looked down the longer, darker left side, to be immediately confronted with a couple pushed up against the wall getting hot and heavy. Brooke’s knee-jerk reaction is flushed embarrassment at catching people in the act but just as she’s about to pull her eyes away to anywhere else and beat a hasty retreat the girl makes a strangled noise.</p><p>All at once it clicks that everything about this girl is saying this is <em>not</em> a consensual encounter in any way. Brooke stands there for a beat at a loss for what to do actually confronted with the sort of thing they warn you about in after school specials before she snaps out of it. She’s gotta help her, <em>obviously</em>, it’s not even like it’ll be hard to kick this guy’s ass. For once the whole mysterious superpowers thing might actually be good for something.</p><p>She’s moving in an instant, on him just as the girl cries out in pain from whatever he’s trying to do. The impact is linebacker worthy and sends them both to the carpet with brutal force. It knocks the girl loose from his grip but she’s still dragged behind them by sheer inertia.</p><p>She can’t see the dude’s face well in the gloom and at that angle but it doesn’t really matter, she beats down on him all the same. He growls inhumanly, trying to buck her and strike back but his all doubled over himself and can’t find a way to get leverage. The instinct or whatever it is takes over again, stronger this time than before, maybe because thanks to the high there’s less to inhibit it or maybe because she actually planned to fight the guy.</p><p> </p><p>By the time she’s registered it and begun to panic, filling with cold dread that she’d going to do it again she’s already sitting on his upper back with her skirt riding up, pinning him under her while she works viciously, hands under his chin, to remove his head as he scrabbles futilily at the ground trying to escape what’s about to happen.</p><p> </p><p>Her ass meets the ground with a cloud of dust and sudden end to the snarls and struggling.</p><p> </p><p>She sits, completely vacant for however long she does until the girl’s whimpers break through her skull and her brain switches on again. She turns back shakily towards her.</p><p> </p><p>“A-are are you okay? Did he hurt you? Holy shit—”</p><p> </p><p>The girl ’s long face is pale and terrified, both of her trembling hands are clutching the side of her neck and Brooke can see something dark leaking through. It’s seeping down her neck and shoulder, coating her long dark hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Here— Let me see—“</p><p> </p><p>Okay she could do this, she could totally do this tons of blood or no. One of them needed to stay calm and she could totally do it. Totally. It wasn’t that bad. She’d seen kids get hurt at soccer or gymnastics or dance or the playground— sprains and broken stuff sure, but still. And there was that one time a girl got cut ice skating— and the time she got hit in nose really hard with a swing and she got a really bad nose bleed! She could totally keep it together and not puke or freak out or anything.</p><p>Gently Brooke tugged at her hands, the brunette complied and she saw the wound. It was more of a tear than a slash, like someone had tried to cut her with something ragged. <em>Monster dude must have had piece of glass or something. </em>It was definitely bleeding, if kind of sluggishly, something Brooke hoped meant that it wasn’t that deep or hit anything major.</p><p> </p><p><em>She needs to get to the hospital pronto</em>. But she had <em>no</em> idea where the nearest phone or nearest one <em>was</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Desperately she tried to think of what to do— first aid or whatever. Totally not something she’d actually learned anything about really, especially first aid for gnarly neck wounds. What if he’d had rabies or whatever? Tetnis? She just had to hope that tv and movies hadn’t lied to her, she guessed. Brooke ripped off her little white hoodie and without a second thought ripped the hood right off, tried to fold it into a something like a manageable square and scooted closer.</p><p>She tried not to grimace too much or anything else at the sight and gingerly placed the wad of fabric to the wound. The brunette whimpered again but didn’t move as Brooke applied some pressure.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay it’s not like, <em>super</em> bad I don’t think, but definitely ER worthy. Don’t worry, I’m totally gonna help you get there okay ah— um, what’s your name?”</p><p> </p><p>She finally seemed to regain the ability to communicate with more than whimpers.</p><p> </p><p>“H-Heidi…”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay Heidi, I’m Brooke. Just hold this to your neck and keep pressure on it, ‘kay? I’m gonna get you outta here and we’re gonna get you an ambulance or something.”</p><p> </p><p>Heidi gave her a feeble nod that she aborted quickly and put her hands back to her neck taking the place of Brooke’s over the wad of thick cotton.</p><p> </p><p>Hastily she tugged her formerly hooded hoodie back on and considered her options here. She could try to help her up and let her lean on her as they walked or something but Brooke was scared of what’d that do to her condition. It was probably better if she just carried her, it’s not like it’d be a huge struggle for her, but wouldn’t that be super weird and suspicious? She was only 5’3” and looked like she weighed 100 pounds soaking wet. Would people think it was weird that she could carry someone like it was nothing and do something?</p><p> </p><p><em>Do what?</em> A snarky voice that suspiciously like Buffy replied in her head. <em>Everyone here is drunk or high or drunk</em> <strong><em>and</em></strong> <em>high, so like, no one’s gonna care or magically</em> <strong><em>know</em></strong> <em>anything. Just pick her up and get moving!</em></p><p> </p><p>Brain Buffy had a point, she shifted and got her legs under her.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna carry you okay? You’ll be totally fine I’m way stronger than I look.”</p><p> </p><p>“O-okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Duh, she saw you beat a dude into dust. Stupid statement.</p><p> </p><p>Gently she slipped her right arm under her knees and her left behind her back, pulled Heidi closer to herself and then stood up in a single slow smooth motion. She was pretty, Brooke noted dimly, if clearly starting to verge on too thin, something her satiny slip minidress did nothing to hide and definitely taller than her even if she hadn’t had strappy wedges on. She seemed a older too, maybe a junior or something?</p><p>Carefully she navigated down the stairs but hesitated when she came to the more crowded first floor. She had to wade through sea of people but didn’t want to have Heidi jostled around by people as she went. Without a better idea she awkwardly turned on the last step and started towards the front door back first, neck craning over her shoulder. She shifted her grip, bringing Heidi’s upper back closer inwards towards her own to try and keep the chance of her getting bumped on the side where she absolutely didn’t need it to a dull roar.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully it wasn’t a very long way to go to get there and Heidi wasn’t shaking quite as bad as she had been. Ideally because she was feeling safer now and not you know, blood loss or something.</p><p> </p><p>She hesitated again a couple of tense minutes later at the closed front door wondering if she should turn around and ask Heidi to get it.</p><p> </p><p>“Screw it.” She muttered and kicked the thing like a mule, breaking it and the door frame but undeniably getting it open.</p><p> </p><p>Not her house, not anyone’s house, hence the illicit partying. So who cared right? Besides, it was totally ugly, if anyone <em>did</em> buy this place to fix it up it was a public service really to make sure <em>that</em> monstrosity was sent to the dump where it belonged.</p><p> </p><p>Gingerly she stepped out of the house, finally turning back around to walk normally once she had a little room away from the front steps to maneuver.</p><p> </p><p>Then she just kinda set out in a direction.</p><p> </p><p>Once officially out on the street and away from the stale kinda gross air of the packed party house both girls seemed to breath easier. Heidi was shaking less and less in her arms as they walked and didn’t seem to be getting like, super worse or anything. Pale, sure, but she looked awake and stuff. It<em> had</em> to be after midnight, she had no idea where the nearest payphone was and the only places open would be stuff like convenience stores.</p><p>Brooke perked up at the idea, even if she didn’t know where anything was she was bound to walk past one any time now plus it would be safer to wait inside one of them for help than out on the sidewalk next to some grungy payphone.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Heidi, I’m not super familiar with this part of LA, are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah kinda…”</p><p> </p><p>“Awesome, do you know where the closest convenience store is?”</p><p> </p><p>Heidi officially came out of her stupor and clicked in on the plan lickity split.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yeah, um… there’s a seven eleven two blocks down…”</p><p> </p><p>“Perfect. That’s great. Thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah…”</p><p> </p><p>Heidi lapsed into silence for a moment looking between Brooke and everywhere but her while Brooke couldn’t help to look between dead ahead and Heidi. Her face was just about every possible expression Brooke had ever seen just flicking around like the victim of a channel surfer.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>What was that thing?</em>” Heidi finally blurt out.</p><p> </p><p>Good one. The question Brooke had wanted answered for like a million years now.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. It’s not the first one I’ve see though, kinda hoped that’s whole thing would stay a one-off but well…”</p><p> </p><p>“He seemed so <em>normal</em> and then when we got upstairs he pinned me to the wall and his <em>face</em>— <em>why did his face do that? How did it do that?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know that either, I’m basically just about as in the dark on this stuff as you are.”</p><p> </p><p>“But you— you killed him.”</p><p> </p><p>Brooke made a face. “ <em>Yeah,</em> but I don’t know <em>how</em> or <em>why</em> or whatever— like, I just woke up one day like <em>blam!</em> Super Girl! And then I got these weird chills once and found a guy in an alley who did the face thing too and like, went on autopilot and poofed him too. But I don’t know why <em>any</em> of this is happening.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds scary.”</p><p> </p><p>“Majorly. It’s been pretty much a life ruiner from day one.” She frowned. “It worked out pretty good today I guess. I got the chills again, went upstairs and saw you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks for saving me. I think he was going to kill me or- or— I don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey I’m just glad I could help okay? How’re you holding up?”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay I think, kinda fuzzy I guess? But I took some ketamine at the party so…”</p><p> </p><p>Brooke nodded. “Gotcha. Just lemme know if you start feeling worse okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Heidi gave a little sound of acknowledgement as she settled more into Brooke’s grip, resting her on hers. Probably putting her focus on pressing the wound and not moving her head too much. Brooke left her to it. She was pretty sure everything in her own system was totally burnt out by now and she was most definitely bushy tailed. She opted to keep an eye out for any other monsters. Where they like sharks? Would they be able to smell Heidi’s blood from like a mile off or something?</p><p>Things entered a surreal sped up but slo mo feeling state once they got to the seven eleven. The cashier was totally freaked but called 911 asap and then Brooke was just keeping Heidi awake and occupied, waiting and answering questions in different locations with different people. No, she didn’t know who did it. No, she’d just met Heidi She’d just seen her being attacked and helped. No, she had no idea where he’d gone. No, she had not gotten a good look at him. Yada yada, etecera etecera.</p><p>She probably should’ve been more panicked about trying to keep a story without any looney bin material straight but by the time the EMTs and stuff had gotten there she was just too tired and freaked out to point of numbness to get worked up. Besides, crazy guy at sketchy party was honestly pretty solid all on its own and wasn’t really a lie or anything, just a simplification of events.</p><p>Heidi went in and out of consciousness after a while but Brooke stayed with her dutifully the whole time to the hospital holding her hand.. Eventually though she had to go, Heidi was admitted and she wasn’t a relative and it wasn’t visiting hours so impulsively she wrote her name and home phone on some junk paper and asked the nurse who’d been talking to them to give it to her when she got a chance before she headed back home just as the sky was lightening.</p><p> </p><p>That was it. She needed answers.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don't even know what to say past a frazzled "here it is???". I'm not sure how interested people might be in the concept or how Brooke will end up being received. Much like the movie is this fic basically a prototype for several things in the project and a way to hammer out the pre-series stuff for future reference. But I'm also trying to not get too detailed or spend too much time on it since, well, it's just a prototype and I have so much other shit to work on for this. I have a rough overall outline for this series and am already working on hammering out the more detailed ones per season as we speak and I'd like to focus more time on that comparatively. </p><p>This fic is going to be largely Brooke-centric since well, we all kind of know the Buffy end of things already but the exact ratios for their POVs are still in the air. So I hope you like her? We're with her a lot in this fic. The rest of the series is a fucking wild west saloon fight for POV slots right now fdgds. </p><p>The slayer in the dream at the beginning is not exactly India Cohen, the noncanonical slayer immediately before Buffy from <i>The Book of Fours</i> novel, but she <i>is</i> a nod to her.  When I decided on kicking off with a slayer dream I knew I wanted to pay a little respect her way while not out right saying it was her since I hadn't read the book and didn't know if I might want to eventually do something with the dead slayer past the dream later on. If you'd like you can 100% see it as literally her and not just a nod.   </p><p> </p><p>I'll say again that all feedback and interest is really greatly appreciated and tbh I'd love to chat about this fic series or show off the ever expanding pinterest nightmare even if they're comically spoilery (we're up to 6 boards now, all with over 100+ pins. Yes, I know I have a problem). And that if at any point someone would like to tag in as a beta or just a sounding board that would be lovely and I'd deeply appreciate it. Otherwise I just hope people enjoy my very ambitious and- <i>gods I don't even know what to call it fuck me</i> story. </p><p>Pray for me that I get even just the prologue eventually finished.</p><p>(Also should I include Dawn seriously in this? It feels a little weird because of well, How Dawn Works but I also just like her and think it'd be fun/interesting? I've been flip flopping on that so I kept mention of her down to an easily edited out amount.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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